


tell-tale heart

by jywait



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Body Swap, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pining, Ridiculous Shenanigans, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jywait/pseuds/jywait
Summary: England and America swap bodies. It’s not good for anyone.





	tell-tale heart

**Author's Note:**

> I only wrote this because I thought of a pun with Scotland and I wanted to use it. He doesn’t do anything in this fic, oh well.
> 
> hmu on jywait on tumblr! id love to hear what you think!

The second England woke up, he knew something was wrong.

For one, his bed was too hard, and frankly, smelt like food, which England knew he wouldn’t be anywhere close to if he was eating something like, say, a biscuit.

The second thing was that his vision was blurry. England wiped at his eyes, but the hand in front of him was blurry still, even as he blinked furiously.

He sat up, squinting at the sunlight pouring between the curtains. For some reason, some disgusting reason, England was craving, and he shivered, burgers. Specifically, McDonald’s burgers. The feeling passed when he reprimanded himself, though.

A foreboding feeling passed over him and England swallowed thickly. He scanned his surroundings, finding the decorations somewhat familiar, yet he couldn’t place a finger on it. American, it seemed, but considering how the two-week long meeting was held in America, it wouldn’t really tell England where he was. Assuming he still in America, that is.

A phone was on the stand beside the bed, and England reached over to it, pressing on the home button. A clear picture of America appeared on the slightly cracked screen. America was beaming at the camera, eyes closed in an expression of genuine delight that England hasn’t seen for a long time. England spent a little too long staring at the image of America smiling and showing a peace sign, the background a beach England doesn’t recognise.

He’s looked at it so long a message notification appeared. The name ‘England’ shocks him out of his stupor. England unlocked the phone, dimly feeling a stab of pain at the passcode being 1776 (the passcode hint of ‘independence’ helps), and goes to the camera app to check his appearance, to connect the threads of suspicion in his head.

It’s not him. It’s...America, looking back at him in shock. England waved a hand at the camera, somehow both surprised and unsurprised when ‘America’ in the camera copies his movement.

Alright. It looks like somehow England managed to get into America’s body. The logical conclusion is that America is in his body, and England dreads the implication of that train of thought.

England left the camera app, pressing the message app and seeing a message from himself at the top, along with messages to people who England can roughly guess, judging by the weird names America gives them. England’s the only one without a silly nickname, it seems. England pressed on the message from himself.

_‘Dude! England I think we swapped bodies!! This is America btw. GET TO THE CONFERENCE ROOM NOW!!!’_

The message was sent three minutes ago. England mourned for what is to come, and got up, reluctantly. He’s pretty sure he’s gonna have to change, and see way more of America’s body than he wants to...probably.

America can wait, England thinks, as he goes to America’s kitchen and looks for a drink that’s preferably not coffee. That’s why the place seemed familiar, England has only been to the first floor, where the kitchen and living room was, but America has sent him pictures of his room before, but it has been a long while. England knows the first floor, he has visited America many times.

England goes through the cupboards absentmindedly, distracted by how he suddenly feel taller and stronger. England can almost feel America calling him old.

Besides, with how England feels now, and what he would have to deal with later, he ought to be allowed to take his time for awhile. From what he remembers, the meeting is held only about a five minutes walk away from America’s apartment.

England blinked in surprise. He had moved seemingly endless boxes of coffee aside, and found a box of tea, and not the cheap kind too.

“Tea?” He heard himself say in a foreign voice, “Why would he have this?”

~

“It seems,” America said solemnly, folding his arms together in a uncanny resemblance of England’s style, “we have swapped bodies.”

“Brilliant deduction,” England deadpanned. God, it was so weird to see himself glare at him for making sarcastic comments. Why, if England met another one of himself, they’d both chortle over dry wit and subtle jabs.

In any case, America and England were alone together, the meeting not about to start for another hour, and there was probably about half an hour left before the early countries poured in.

“So, what should we do?” America asked, seeming as lost as England felt, judging by...his face.

“Don’t make that face with my face,” England said, “also, I haven’t a bloody clue.”

“Should we just like, you know, pretend to be each other? Or just tell everyone the truth?” America contemplated.

England didn’t hesitate. “Pretend. There’s no way I’m letting France find out, he won’t be letting that go anytime soon. My-,” England scowled, “brothers are coming today too, and they definitely will be teasing me for the next century if they know.”

America sighed. “Looks like we’re gonna have to pretend to be each other then. Won’t be hard, I’ll just have to do old British man stuff.”

England slapped him on the back in annoyance, and America crumbled to the ground, gasping. “W-what the hell?” England spluttered. America dropped like paper, and worriedly, England watched America take a shuddering breath before standing up again.

“Super-“ America rasped weakly, “-strength.”

“Oh.” Oops, England forgot. America looked half dead, and England winced at the thought of how he might have felt if he had been the one receiving such a attack. “My apologies.”

America waved a shaking hand. “No worries, my dude. It’s not like I’m coughing up blood or anything.”

“Right,” England said warily, “low standard.”

America got up slowly, and England’s hand twitched, he wanted to help the other up, but didn’t know how America might react.

“Gotta learn to control yourself, man,” America said.

“I...suppose,” England answered. Then paused. A thought came to his head. “America, does that mean you always have to be conscious of your strength?” That seemed like hard work.

America hummed. “Um, no? I guess not. I’ve been holding back for so long it comes to me naturally now,” he explained. England nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s weird, you’ve never hurt me using your strength as a child, were you already controlling it then?” To his surprise, America blushed. Seeing his own face red made him really feel weird, even though he knows it’s not technically him.

“Um, well- I was extremely, um, conscious of not hurting you,” America said, embarrassed.

Oh. “That’s-“ England trailed off awkwardly. Both of them were red.

“Anyways!” America interrupted, the red of his cheeks receding. “The meeting’s gonna start soon, we should, uh, get to our seats.”

“We should.”

~

“America! Start the meeting!” Germany hissed at England, frowning. England blinked at him, about to ask what the hell he was talking about before America elbowed him.

“Uh, whoops, we forgot to discuss this,” America said, barely restraining a laugh.

“Bloody hell,” England breathed, and got up, attempting to be as enthusiastic as America would’ve. He doesn’t think he succeeded.

America was hiding his laugh behind his hand, and England glared at him.

“Um, right! Time to get this meeting started! I’m a hero!” England said lamely.

America was starting to cry, shoulders shaking and waving off France’s concern.

England has lost all his dignity, and he just went back to his seat, putting his face in his hands. America patted him consolingly, but that didn’t help the rest of the room staring at him in mild alarm. Germany seemed to have given up on him, and went to start the meeting himself. England glared at America sourly, muttering harshly, “shut up!” to no avail as America only continued to laugh silently.

He was about to just deck America, super strength or not, when Russia spoke up. “Not going to eat your burgers again, America?” Russia from his left asked, smile deceptive.

America opened his mouth to reply, but England cut him off, damn America for laughing at him, he’s gonna have his fun now. “Nope, but if you’d like, after the meeting we could go out and get some.” When Russia seemed to have frozen at his reply, England added a wink for good measure.  
  
Russia blanched, and England pressed his lips in a thin line to prevent himself from outright bursting into laughter at America and Russia’s horrified face.

“No...thank you...” Russia said weakly.

“Shame,” England said dismissively, turning back to the meeting.

“Oh fuck you, England,” America growled, and England felt a smirk curl his lips.

~

“Is there anything else anyone would like to add to the meeting?” Germany asked.

America stood up quietly, and England tugged at his suit to pull him down, but America remained standing, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. England gulped.

“Everyone,” America said, capturing everyone’s eyes. “I have an announcement to make,” he said solemnly, and the room quietened as everyone waited for him to continue. England paled. “I’m getting married,” America said seriously, and England choked, but America wasn’t done. “I’m getting married to France.” He turned to England then, and England watched him warily, observing the twinkle of mirth in America’s-his eyes. “America,” America addressed him, “will you be my bridesmaid?” He turned to the other countries, some of which have already pulled out their phones. “Yes, I will be dressed as the bride,” America said to the crowd. “In a dress,” America added unnecessarily. The room burst into chatter, some countries congratulating America, and the sad thing was England couldn’t tell if they were being sarcastic or not, while others looking far more lost than ever.

France wasn’t helping, he was laughing at the whole situation. “France!” England scowled, his reputation was going down the drain, his brothers were already taking a video, “Can’t you bl- goddamn do something?”

France shook his head, “Aw, but this is so much fun, _Amérique_. If anything, you should be enjoying this too, unless you’re...” France paused ominously, “jealous?”

England blinked at the sudden topic change. “Jealous?” He asked, ludicrous.

France leaned in, smirking, “Don’t worry, _Amérique_ , I’m not taking him away from you.” France blew a kiss at him.

England frowned. What on earth was France talking about? Why on earth would America be jealous at all?

America was thanking everyone, looking every bit the gentlemen while ruining England’s life.

This meant war, England thought darkly.

“Hey, when’s the wedding?” Someone asked, and England lost his patience.

“There’s no wedding!”

~

America patted him on the back. “Gotcha good, didn’t I?” He said.

England growled at him. He’s never noticed their height difference as much as he has now, he could loom over America now.

“Anyways, we’re equal now,” America continued, oblivious to England’s darkening mood.

“You must be bloody mad if you think that’s the case,” he murmured lowly, America blinked at him. “Huh?”

England stalked off, formulating plans of revenge.

~

England...does have a little shame. Just a little.

~

“ENGLAND!” America shouted. England looked at the other innocently.

“Yes?” He asked, daintily picking up a cup of tea.

America whipped out his phone, the two of them swapping phones once they remembered to, but not before England had his fun, and pointed to a chat he had with the President. America had asked England to stay with him while they tried to sort out the whole situation, leaving England with the perfect opportunity to ruin America’s life.

“Why,” America wailed, “did you send nudes to my boss?”

England shrugged. “Pardon me. It was an accident.”

“You accidentally sent nudes of someone else’s body to the goddamn President?” America cried.

“If it’s any consolation,” England said, “He called me immediately to tell me he was married.”

“That’s worse!” America was pale now, looking like a ghost that he was so dearly afraid of. England felt a stab of guilt run through him, then he thought of Scotland’s texts and howl of laughter during the meeting, and changed his mind.

“You can delete messages, you know,” England said pleasantly.

“I KNOW THAT! WHY DIDN’T YOU?” America sobbed.

England looked at his empty cup mourningly. He ran out of tea.

~

America smiled at him innocently when England entered the meeting room, followed by Germany and Italy.

“...What?” He asked, wary of America’s careful control of composure.

“Nothing,” America said, suspiciously. He picked up a cup of tea in front of him. “Want a cup of tea?” He asked civilly.

“You didn’t poison it, did you? God knows you would’ve.” England said. Maybe he went too far, but America deserved it...probably.

America waved a hand. “Nah, man, this is just a cup of tea, poison-less.”

England didn’t believe him, but damn if he’s going to forgo a cup of tea. If he died, well, at least he wouldn’t be In America’s body anymore.

“Alright, give me that,” he swiped the cup of tea, taking a sip of it. And choked.

“What the hell is this?” He spluttered. Bitter, not in the good tea way, and disgusting caffeine-like. “Is this coffee?” It didn’t look like coffee, it looked like normal tea.

America tilted his head. “Guess it worked,” he said.

“What?” England asked, smacking his lips together in a vain attempt to get rid of the horrid taste.

“I took your wand yesterday,” America said, taking the cup back and drinking it, while humming contently, “and used a spell to make all tea you drink taste like coffee.”

England’s eyes darkened. “You monster.”

“I think sending nudes to your boss is worse,” America said. Italy gave him a weird look.

“How dare you,” England breathed. Tea was his life, he was British, god damn it.

America smiled smugly at him, making finger guns. “Take that, douchebag.”

“You!” England leaped forward to wring America’s neck, but America dodged neatly to the side.

“All’s fair in love and war, England,” America said cheerily.

~

The next week was spend miserably, with the both of them doing their upmost to destroy the other’s reputation.

England has received multiple calls from concerned countries, and England had had to convince them that _no, he was fine, no he wasn’t drunk, and what do you mean I tried on lingerie yesterday, please delete those pictures, I’m so sorry, I think._

What on earth had America been doing? That’s not to say England hasn’t been retaliating, anyways.

He had been going without tea for a week, and America had been ridiculously smug about it until England sent him flying through the living room, only half apologetic. He broke a few tables in the process, but America hadn’t seemed mad, for some reason.

It was night now, and England was reading one of America’s books despite himself. America hadn’t come home, he had went out to watch a movie England hadn’t bothered to pay attention to, and England had vehemently refused when America asked if he’d like to come. America only blinked twice, looking strangely sullen, before leaving.

The door opened, and America entered, looking surprised when he saw England was still in the living room reading.

“Man, how long do you read?”

“I’ll have you know this is the third book,” England sniffed. America shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“England,” America said, and England straightened at the sudden change in tone. “What if we never change back?” He asked worriedly.

England put down his book. Admittedly, he hasn’t spent much time contemplating how they’ve even changed bodies in the first place, too busy trying to fool around aimlessly. England scowled at his own negligence, bloody America and his ability to drag England down to his level. England hadn’t been using his magic when they’ve swapped bodies, so England was at a loss.

“Magic is ever-changing,” England decided, rather than answering the question, “I doubt it would keep us like this forever,” he murmured unconvincingly.

America didn’t look reassured. “Are you sure? Are you sure you weren’t using your magic or whatever?”

“I wasn’t,” England replied. “What about you? Did you do anything the night before? Anything of note?” America tilted his head.

“Nothing more different than usual...” he trailed off. “What?” England asked.

“Well, there was a shooting star last night,” America said, “but I don’t think that matters.”

“No wait, it might. Magic is everywhere, even more so in the stars. Did you wish for anything?” Considering he had been hit by a star once, he, of all people, should know that it was not what it seemed. America bit his lip at his words, and seem to go a few shades redder.

“No...” America said unconvincingly, and England noticed him fidget nervously.

“America, tell me the truth,” England frowned.

“There’s nothing to say!” America insisted, running a hand through his hair.

England narrowed his eyes, America was unusually nervous, and his cheeks were red. England leaned over to grip America’s wrist in his hands, and America tensed.

“America,” England scowled, “Just bloody tell me, this could be important,” he stressed, gripping America’s wrist tighter.

America gently pried away England’s hand and England let him, rubbing his wrist where England had gripped in a rare act of shyness that was so uncomfortable on his face.

“I-I can’t,” he said quietly.

“Why not?” England’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“I don’t think, that you- that is, uh, would want to hear it, I don’t-“ America stammered, flushing heavily, tugging at the collar of England’s suit.

“What? Why wouldn’t I want to hear it?” England, increasingly alarmed at America’s distress, asked.

Somehow, America‘s blush became even darker, and sweat was gathering at his collar. “England, I- I don’t- I’m so-“ America stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. England watched him, softening at America’s panic.

“England,” America said, voice wavering, “I...wished that I could be with you.”

England blushed. “What?”

America flinched. “I was, upset, I guess, and I saw the star and thought of you and I just thought that maybe, I don’t know, it would make me feel less...lonely,” America confessed weakly.

England froze. “Give...me a second to think,” he placed a hand over his mouth, overwhelmed by his thoughts and the sudden springing of feelings hidden away for years. America... wanted to be with him? Did he mean it in a brotherly, friendship way? Or a...

“Be with me?” England repeated, and America sighed shakily. “Yeah, I’m- that is to say, um, in love with you. Have been. For a long time now.”

England’s breath hitched. America was in love with him? And apparently for a long time. England has spent years confused of his own feelings and unsure of where he stood with America, yet here was America telling him that he had loved him for so long.

God, was that what France had meant? Had France known, but England hadn’t? England clutched at his arm, _how could he have been so blind?_ America followed him like a puppy, whenever he presented his eyes would go to England’s, and their eyes would make contact for a brief, electrifying second, before England tore his gaze away. God, America asked him to the movies just yesterday, and England had dismissed him so easily.

England swallowed thickly, America was watching his reaction carefully, looking resigned and ready to bolt the second England gave as much as a slight hint of displeasure. England’s heart hurt. America’s expression was uncanny on England’s face.

“America,” England called softly. America didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah?”

England leant in to kiss him, brushing his lips against the other’s gently, smiling into the kiss when he felt America let out a shuddering breath, and sighed softly. England kissed his deeply, pulling him by his suit and trying to show his feelings through the kiss rather than by his words. Bloody hell, it was definitely weird kissing himself.

England eyes flew open when he felt a shiver run through him, the feeling foreign and uncomfortable and not from the kiss. His eyes met America’s open blue ones. America, in his own body, was staring back at him.

England pulled apart, breathing harder for a while. America did the same, then a grin tugged at his lips and he lifted England by his waist, twirling the two of them around.

“America! What are you-“ England spluttered, but America’s joy was contagious, his beam wide as he cheered whilst making England dizzy.

“Yay! We’re back!” He slowed to a stop, putting England back onto the ground, and damn if England missed being taller, and hugging him closely.

England didn’t suppress his smile. “Yeah,” he said softly, running his fingers through America’s soft hair, “We are.”

_Be with you._

_Be you._

Somehow the stars may have misheard, unlikely as it seems, or maybe this was a part of their cosmic plan all along.

~

Now that England was back in his body, he had no reason to continue staying with America, and ought to return to his hotel room, which was sadly very unused. He didn’t though, he’d much rather prefer to lay with America on his couch, and watch one of America’s many movies, whilst eating junk food. It was domestic, soft, and everything England had ever wanted.

America put a chip in his mouth, chewing noisily. “By the way, I punched Scotland yesterday.”

England immediately paled, and sat up. “Why the bloody hell would you do that?”

America shrugged uncaringly. “For fun. I ran off before he could hit me back, though.” Then, with a shit eating grin, he said, “I can definitely tell you,” America paused smugly, “You won’t be getting off _Scot_ -free.” He burst out laughing, and England wished both of them were dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you’d like! Out of all the fics I wrote I definitely had the most fun with this!


End file.
